The Heart a Madman Gives
by Lialane Graest
Summary: Stein, lost in madness, gives Marie a heart. Will she survive it? Insane!Stein; MariexStein. Happy Valentine's day.


Her chest was an aching mass of pain, and she found it impossible to focus on anything other than the searing pain. She couldn't see, her eyes were covered by something that she had a suspicion was medical gauze. She knew where she was, yes. She knew where she was just as well as she knew the giggling, manic laughter that would occasionally erupt above her just a moment before a new wave of pain would erupt in her chest.

The anesthetic, if he used it, never kicked in.

It was all she could do to force herself not to jerk and scream each time she felt the scalpel slide into her skin. How she managed, she didn't know. Her body must have shut down, entering into some sort of survival mode; after a while she couldn't feel the pain anymore, just the sensation of the blade ripping through skin.

She wondered if she had died and her soul just hadn't realized it yet, clinging to her body like a ghost; would the world be in black and white like an old B movie if the gauze were removed so that she could see? The rush of air moving through her lungs and the resulting pain that speared through her when she shifted proved to her that she was still very much alive, and still very much in Stein's clutches.

His hand rested for a moment on her hip, pushing her back into position though she'd barely been able to move. She felt his breath rushing across her exposed muscles, the scalpel moving with a surgeon's precision; she couldn't stop the hiss, her body realizing that it was pain.

The scalpel dragged itself up the side of her face, and she felt the thin line that it left against her cheek, ending below her missing left eye. It tore through the gauze that was covering it, and the gauze fell from the left side of her face, leaving a small sliver of light to reach her good eye. She flinched as she felt his thumb press lightly against her left eyelid. Her body shuddered as she imagined the pain that would course through her if he were to dig down into her empty socket.

The pain never came. The gauze fell from her face and she felt the breeze of his passage as he moved away from her; she could almost feel the anguish that swept off of him in waves before she even heard her name escape his lips. She heard the dull thud of him hitting his knees, and she felt the sticky wetness of his hands as he rose to his feet again, his hands gingerly touching what was left of her chest. She was too weak to open her eye to see his face, and she wondered if he had destroyed her breasts as she lost her grip on the world, his broken voice repeating her name over and over.

* * *

Stein's hands flew over Marie's ravaged body, his mind tightly locking away feelings of rage and guilt. He quelled the tremors that tried to run through his hands, fought against the nausea that was welling up in his throat and threatening to demand to be released. He found himself blinking rapidly, something obscuring his vision on occasion. He ignored it all.

The only thing that mattered to him was undoing the damage that he had done to the woman lying on the operating table. He should be able to follow the cuts; know what procedure he had been performing. He should have been able to know at a glance if he had severed anything important. He should have been able to at least have an idea of what he had been doing.

He couldn't; he didn't.

The careful lines on Marie's chest were clean, already sterilized. They were done to cause a minimal amount of scarring, yet done so that they would definitely scar. They seemed to him almost at random, his mind blocking out what they actually were.

He wasn't ready to face the fact that he had, lost in his madness, carved a heart into Marie's chest. Carefully, precisely, in minute detail. He couldn't let himself realize that it was sitting above hers, carefully situated between her breasts, which he had left completely untouched. Even the cut on her cheek was barely more than a scratch; something that, given time, would heal. It would fade from memory.

The marks on her chest, the scars that he had inflicted on her; they would never disappear completely. His hands shook as he forced himself to ignore the knowledge of what he had done. He knew that the pain must have been incredible; he could see the care that he had taken peeling her skin back to make each of the lines perfect.

He wondered what he had poured on them. The skin that was left was bright red, almost angry looking. A dry chuckle escaped from him, something to help him cling to sanity, as he listed off the compounds that he possessed that would do that to the skin, letting his mind wander into the depths of science.

His reprieve was short lived; he found himself imagining the argument they would have. Him, telling her to leave. Her, telling him she wouldn't when it was obvious he needed her.

He needed her.

His hands stopped their almost mechanical motions across the wound on her chest, the suture poised to descend; he couldn't control the trembling that ran through them. He needed her.

She needed him to go far away.

He would make certain that this never happened again, he vowed. He continued his work, cleaning the wound, stitching what he could back together. The image that would scar on her chest scarred itself in his mind as his long fingers carefully set the last of the stitches.

She was breathing weakly, but stably, as he slid his arms underneath her and picked her up. He carried her as carefully as he could away from the gore and blood soaked operating table, his eyes not quite seeing the way as he threaded through the lab to lay her in bed.

* * *

Marie opened her eyes sometime later to the distinct absence of pain. She sighed and felt her chest twinge a moment before she took a deep breath in and her chest blazed with pain. She couldn't keep from crying out, and a moment later she felt a hand rest against her forearm as Stein leaned over her. She felt a rush of adrenaline and something she refused to acknowledge as fear.

There was concern in his eyes even though it didn't reach his face as he gingerly placed a small amount of pressure on her chest. She couldn't help but wince, but she realized that the pressure was actually _helping_ the pain that came with the quick breaths she was taking.

"Marie, you have to stop hyperventilating."

It was easier said than done. She forced herself to take deep breaths, her chest a searing mass of pain. Eventually she relaxed, her breathing coming normally.

"Is," Marie caught the slight delay here as Stein swallowed, "the pain bad?"

She didn't trust herself to speak, and just nodded. Even that caused the pain in her chest to erupt.

He moved away from her and she felt that same emotion spike as he returned with a hypodermic needle. She felt herself tense and start to hyperventilate again; she could clearly see the look of pain that crossed Stein's face briefly. His hand fell to her wrist and turned her arm over.

The needle slid into the hollow just below her elbow, and she almost screamed. Her body tensed even further and she fought the need to jerk away from him, to escape. Pain flared up in her chest, bad enough that it sent her to coughing.

It was a vicious cycle. She would cough and pain would flare, making her cough again. She sat upright in bed, her arms wrapping around her chest and grabbing her shoulders as her body shook. She almost didn't make out Stein's voice, the man's hand on hers and trying to push her back onto the bed.

"Marie, lay back! Relax!"

Tears were falling down her cheek when she finally let him push her backwards. It took her a long moment to relax; her body was trembling from the onslaught of pain.

The silence that followed was awkward. Twice Stein opened his mouth as if to say something, and twice he closed it without speaking a word. Finally, after what seemed like a short eternity, he stood and moved to leave. Marie's hand caught his wrist as he did, and he looked down at her as she spoke quietly.

"I forgive you."

Something twisted in his chest, unexpected emotions raging through him. They served as a reminder of what he had done to her as his heart twisted. The image of the scar on her chest flashed through his mind and he found himself at a loss for words yet again.

He could clearly see the pain and fear that was etched into her soul. He could see how hard she was trying to let go of it. He wanted to tell her that she shouldn't; that she needed to be afraid of him. But as he watched she took a deep, shuddering breath and despite the pain that he knew she was in, despite the pain medicine that was coursing through her system and should have rendered her unconscious by now, she sat upright, staggering to her feet before he could object.

A moment later she was laying against his chest, sobs hiccupping from her. Her arms were balled up against his chest, her cheek pressed to the side; tears streamed down her other cheek from her good eye.

His arms were held awkwardly out at his sides, the scientist unfamiliar with what he should do. Did he wrap his arms around her? Would that make what he had to tell her easier? Or should he grab her shoulders and push her away from him?

He would break her heart.

A laugh escaped him. Her heart. She had two now, he realized. He had given her another one to wear above her heart and she would always be marked as his. His arms settled around her. No one would ever forget that she was his; she would be his forever and he would never-

He smashed that dangerous train of thought. Marie Mjolnir was not his. She couldn't be his. As gently as he could he pushed her away from him, his eyes drawn to the dressing that was covering the wound on her chest.

"Marie… you have to leave. You have to get away from me, I could have killed you."

Her eye went wide, her words completely expected. "How could I leave when you obviously need someone here?!"

"It is for your own good!"

"No!" She stepped back, stumbling a bit. "You don't get to hurt me again, Franken. I'm not going to leave you unless it _is _in a body bag!"

"You can't stay. I'll speak to Shinigami-sama. I'll tell him what happened." Stein turned to leave, and Marie's voice stopped him.

It was full of tears, but resolute. "You'll do no such thing. I'm not going to let you throw your life away!"

"Yet you can throw yours away?!" He whirled, turning to face her. "You are in danger every day that you stay here. You should be running away from here as fast as you can, not arguing with me so you can stay! I can see the fear that you're trying to hide, Marie, its wrapped all around your soul!"

The pain in her chest was forgotten as she stared at him before laughing. "You don't get it, Franken. I wasn't scared for me! I was terrified for _you._ What would have happened if you had done something to me that was worse than this? How would _you _have handled it?"

He just stared at her.

A moment later she had moved to him and somehow managed to worm her way back into his arms. He let them rest around her waist, her head resting against his chest. He didn't know how to respond and finally settled on, "You can't stay."

"You won't make me leave."

He was silent, because she was right.

* * *

**A/N: Happy late Valentine's Day. I don't own Soul Eater.**


End file.
